


lost with a direction

by Chillykins



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Character Death, Character Study, the original characters are garon kids in the first five parts, the rest of the siblings pop up in the last part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22803691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chillykins/pseuds/Chillykins
Summary: "How many Nohrian princes and princesses do you think once existed? Father had many concubines. So long ago, I had many siblings, but all there is left is those that stand here today. There are those that fell in battle, those that were executed, those that were taken by Hoshido, and those that got involved in struggles between concubines and murdered one another. Being unable to protect them, I regretted it many times."- Xander, Fates Drama CD #3(Alternate title: Five Times Xander Lost a Sibling and One Time He Didn't)
Kudos: 9





	lost with a direction

**Author's Note:**

> i love xander and he makes me sad so i hope you all also love xander and that this fic makes you sad
> 
> for reference, he's 5-7 for the first two parts, early teens for the third, mid to late teens for the fourth, late teens-early twenties for the fifth, and around 25 for the last one
> 
> also, shoutout to the lovely ellen (@mismoree on twitter/ao3) for being my beta. i appreciate u like i appreciate the nohr sibs
> 
> finally, you can find me on twitter @longestyeehaw or tumblr @johnbly :')

**i.**

Half past three, and Aelic still hasn’t come for their usual play time. Xander frowns from his seat on the floor. His brother has been late before, but not this late. Perhaps he’s sick? Or he’s doing something else, and simply forgot to tell him? Xander’s mother often tells him he thinks too much. Maybe this is one of those times. All the same, it wouldn’t hurt to go in search of Aelic.

With one of his servants following him -- he’s too young to wander the castle alone -- Xander checks Aelic’s room for any sign of the sibling that’s come to be his best playmate. No one is inside. The bed is perfectly made, likely by a maid, but the room seems...empty. He dismisses it as the room being so large and him so small. He’ll start growing soon, his mother promises. The only reason he doesn’t feel the same way in his room is because it’s familiar and decorated, albeit minimally.

Since Aelic isn’t laying in bed, Xander thinks it’s safe to assume his brother isn’t sick. He must be somewhere else in the castle. It’s too large of a space for him to search every room. Time to ask around. His least favorite strategy. He considers asking the servant to speak on his behalf, but he forces himself to dismiss that idea. His father makes it very clear that crown princes are expected to give speeches one day, and Xander’s aversion to talking to strangers -- and in some cases, anyone for that matter -- won’t do.

He has to start somewhere, he supposes. A woman that looks like the maid who handles this section of the castle is talking to a soldier. Maybe they know what’s happened. It’s easier for him to start a conversation when he has a clear purpose in mind. Trying to summon the presence his father has whenever he speaks, Xander walks up to them.

“Excuse me,” he says. His mother expects him to be polite, and so he will be. “Where is Aelic?”

The guard and the woman exchange looks. Xander waits patiently for an answer, unsure as to why they don’t have one ready on their lips, but trusting there’s a good reason for it.

“I’m sorry, Prince Xander,” the woman says delicately, “but Aelicis gone.” 

Xander blinks. People come and go in the castle all the time. Sometimes he sees someone once, and then never again. Other times, he sees someone, then they’re away for a while, and then they return. He hopes Aelic is that sort of gone.

“I see.” Well, not quite. He can’t think of anyone else that he sees regularly deciding to leave without an explanation, but he knows he’s still young and learning. “Thank you for telling me.”

The two seem oddly somber for delivering such a reasonable message. He’s already reached his limit on a conversation length with strangers, so he decides not to press any further. Without another word, he leaves. He’s not sure where to go. Or what to do, for that matter. This time is set aside for playing with Aelic, but Aelic isn’t there. Perhaps he should just entertain himself. After all, enjoying time spent alone is a skill Xander has had for as long as he can remember. Admittedly, that isn’t a very long time, but sufficient for him to know the truth.

On his way back to his room, he passes by a butler he knows to have aided Aelic. Perhaps he has more details? Xander gathers up his courage again and approaches the young man. Just like the two before, he seems startled by the question and takes some time to respond. And, just like the others, all he offers is the fact that Aelic is gone. He thanks him and resumes his journey.

For a moment, he wonders if he should ask his father and see if the king has a different answer. But if everyone else is saying Aelic is gone, then surely his father will say the same? Will it be worth it to brave a conversation with him just to hear the same explanation? Xander doesn’t think so. Nor does he think there’s a point in conversing with anyone else. Admittedly because he’s already exhausted from the two attempts, but it seems unlikely that anyone would have better news for him than two people who are relatively close to Aelic.

The only person Xander will consider talking with is Aelic’s mother, but he doesn’t know where she is either. To find her, he’ll have to ask around, which brings him back to the start. No, for now he’ll accept what he’s been told. No one has any reason to be lying to him, after all. He accepts that Aelic has left him, though with the caveat of hoping that he’ll show back up one day. 

Until then, he must find another sibling to spend the brunt of his time with. It’s a lucky thing he has so many. All the same, they won’t be like Aelic. Their months of playing together had led to Xander feeling more comfortable around his younger brother than he does around anyone else. Now he has to start that process again. It shouldn’t be too difficult, because his siblings aren’t intimidating like the adults around them, but he’s not looking forward to the awkward days of relationship building.

* * *

**ii.**

Hushed voices, watery eyes, and frowns are everywhere Xander looks. What’s happening? Something must have happened that he doesn’t know about. He’s always thought that as crown prince, people will keep him informed of the goings-on in his world. He understands he may be too young for some details, but he has to start learning somewhere. His father doesn’t have much interest in babying him, despite his mother’s attempts at introducing him into the real world slowly.

His position, somewhere between sheltered and overly informed, is more than enough for him to pick up on the darker mood. A mood that he itches to understand. These will be -- are? -- his people, and being on the outside looking in feels like a misstep on his part. The solution is to find out the cause of the somberness, which, of course, will involve conversing. He’s close to the throne room, which should bring his quest of looking for someone to ask to a quick close. Changing his destination from the kitchen to the room he’ll one day rule is easy.

The throne room is usually a good bet for locating his parents, or at least someone in the know. Whether or not he wants to ask someone other than his mother or father depends on who he finds. Xander is proud of the small progress he’s made over the past year when it comes to socializing, though he’s still far from what he assumes is acceptable for a crown prince. He can talk himself into having an extended conversation a day now, as opposed to avoiding them at all costs. That said, it still takes some time for his palms to stop sweating, even after he goes off on his own.

It will be easier if he finds his mother, but instead he stumbles upon his father, sitting and reading a scroll. The king hasn’t seen him, which means Xander could easily slip away without his father realizing. But doing so would be to retreat, and he hasn’t been raised to surrender. He lingers in the doorway, studying his father’s expression to see if he’s in a reasonable mood. Sometimes when the burden of running Nohr weighs too heavily on the king, he isn’t in the mood to interact with anyone other than his advisors. Certainly not his children.

As much as it sets Xander’s heart racing, this is a good opportunity. His father is the most intimidating person he knows, and is always a good test for the progression of his comfort with speaking. Any conversation with him is like two with an ordinary person. He clears his throat, and the king looks up. 

“Yes?” he says.

Xander ensures his posture is poised and confident, even if he doesn’t feel remotely close to either. “I’ve noticed that people look...sad. Is there something that I should know about?”

The king grunts. In the seconds it takes him to roll up the scroll, Xander tries not to worry that he’s missed something obvious. Failed a test he didn’t even know about. His father’s movements are ordinary, so surely he’s not upset.

“They’re bothered by Odelia’s fate.”

“Odelia?” Xander runs his mind back, searching for the last time the two had spoken. Three days ago. She had urged him to join her in a game involving throwing an apple. “What happened to her?”

“She’s dead, my son,” his father says, with a hint of sympathy.

Xander has heard of death before, of course, but he still can’t comprehend what his father is telling him. The confusion must show on his face, because the king sighs.

“Do you remember what happened when you found a bug in your room?” he asks.

“I came to you and mother because I didn’t know what to do with it,” Xander says, remembering his bemusement at the creature crawling over his floor. Is it dangerous, he’d wondered. “You told me to have one of the servants squash it and take it away because a prince shouldn’t have to do that sort of work.”

His father nods. “And so they did. They squashed the bug, and once it was dead, they took it away.”

Brows furrowed, Xander pushes the story together with the news of Odelia. Is his father comparing her to a bug? Something to simply be killed and tossed aside? No, that can’t be it. His father cares about his children, numerous as they are. Xander backtracks and searches for the real meaning of the words. Most likely the reminder is just to help Xander understand the finality of Odelia’s fate. She’s not off somewhere else, like Aelic -- though with a start, he wonders if Aelic is “gone” in the same way. She’s dead, and he won’t ever see her again. No more games with apples, no more moments of growing up together.

“Do you understand what I’ve told you?” his father says.

With a nod, Xander says, “Yes, Father. Odelia is dead and gone.”

His father studies him, and Xander lets his new knowledge show on his face. He’s learned this lesson well, just as he learns every lesson. This is a test he knows about, the king’s constant monitoring of his growth as a prince. It’s been a weight on his shoulders for as long as he can remember.

“Do you know how it happened?” Xander asks, breaking the silence.

“It’s too soon to know,” his father replies.

Xander notes there’s no promise of hearing the report. On one hand, he isn’t sure he _wants_ to know, because then he could imagine it, and he doesn’t want to imagine any of his siblings dying. It’s bad enough having nightmares of them leaving. Now that he has a better grasp of death, will the dreams grow worse? Would finding out the details about Odelia fuel that fire? But on the other hand, his mind is free to come up with any terrible story, as it has no facts to refute it. He can only hope his overall lack of knowledge with tragedies such as these spares his thoughts from creating the worst.

“Thank you for telling me, Father,” he says.

“You were observant for noticing the change in mood,” the king compliments, instead of acknowledging the gratitude. “A king must understand his subjects so he knows when something has gone wrong.”

Praise from his father is hard-earned, and Xander can’t help but straighten up. He swallows down another _thank you_ , because he’s just given one, and his father never seems to care much for that sort of thing. He settles for dipping his head in a small nod.

“Is there anything else?” 

“No,” Xander says. “That was all.”

The king unrolls his scroll once again and turns his attention to it. Xander knows this as a dismissal, and walks out. At first, there’s relief and pride that he had done so well in talking to his father. And receiving a compliment too! 

Then the memory of the news hits him like a physical blow.

He knows he has many siblings, and may wind up with many more, so perhaps it only makes sense that he’s already lost some. All the same, it doesn’t seem fair. Surely there are some people out there in the world that don’t have their siblings die until their hair is gray. Surely the gods should keep this sort of stress from his life because he’s the crown prince. Or is this happening because he _is_ the crown prince? 

As he heads for his room to spend some time alone, he thinks through the possibilities. Maybe he’s not old enough to understand how life works yet. The alternative is that there is no real reason for anything that happens, everyone’s existence running with a random element lurking behind them, preparing to strike at any moment. That’s a possibility as scary as any of his nightmares.

* * *

**iii.**

Slowly, Xander learns the intricacies of royal life. He’s known decorum and the like for as long as he can remember, but now he’s aware of the darker side. The competition for the throne behind him, mothers of his siblings working in the shadows to have their opposition killed. He never learns if it’s that competition that took Aelic and Odelia from him, though it’s certainly a possibility. Regardless, the reality grates at him.

How can anyone be so callous? They’re just children who haven’t done anything wrong other than be born. _He’s_ not far from being a child himself. If not for being the king’s firstborn, would he have the same target on his back? The question is both troubling and comforting. One one hand, he loathes to have such an advantage based on something so trivial. On the other hand, it offers an opportunity to try and help. If he puts himself in a position to protect a sibling he believes to be in danger, surely the attacker will hesitate at his presence, and Xander can kill them before they have the chance to do the same to his sibling.

Over the years, he’s built up his strength and skills, especially with the blade. He doesn’t quite have Siegfried yet, but the legendary blade will certainly be his one day soon if he keeps up the work. Or so his father tells him, and the king has never been one to lie about matters of power. Still, the sword he does carry is more than sufficient for him to carry out his plan. 

The issue is which of his siblings he should keep an eye on. As much as he wishes to keep them safe, he can’t watch over everyone. So he has to be smart about it. He runs his mind through the list -- some more familiar than others -- and settles on one of his sisters, Mina, who’s beginning to show some promise with magic. There aren’t many siblings he knows of who favor that kind of weapon, so surely she’s a threat to someone.

That evening, Xander bypasses his room (after informing his butler where he’ll be, in case anyone becomes worried) and goes to Mina and her mother’s small section of the castle. Her mother answers the door, and he explains himself, trying to sound confident. He thinks it works, because the woman’s expression softens. She doesn’t seem the type to engage in the sort of warfare the other mothers are, which makes him feel more satisfied with his decision to come here first.

“Xander,” Mina says, surprised. “What’re you doing here?”

“I’m here to protect you,” he replies, resting his hand on the hilt of the blade at his side. “Everyone’s discussing your magic, and I want to ensure we don’t lose it.”

“Oh. Thank you.” She pauses, and Xander wonders how much she knows about the danger of being a child of Garon. “Am I in danger?”

“I don’t know for sure, but if you are, it’s not your fault. Either way, I plan to keep it away from you.”

“Okay,” she says, gazing at him with complete trust. “Thank you, Xander.”

“Of course. I’m your older brother; it’s my job.”

With that, he wishes her a good night. She returns the sentiment with the addition of a hug. He pats her on the head awkwardly. As soon as she retreats to her room, he sets himself up in the kitchen. It’s a good, central location. If someone breaks in at any part, he’s well-positioned to respond quickly. Setting his sword on the table, hand close by, he focuses on every sound. If he makes them familiar, it will be easier to pick up on something wrong.

That first night, nothing occurs. Xander returns the next night, and the next. He doesn’t know how long he’ll continue watching over Mina. The voice in his head that always fears the worst tells him that the one night he leaves her with her mother will be the night someone comes, so he has to keep up his guard duty. On the third night, something changes.

The creak of the door jolts him from his light doze. For a moment, he berates himself for falling asleep on the job, even though he knows full well he needs to have _some_ sleep. He can hardly stay up for nights on end. Picking up his sword, he creeps to the front of the house. He’s ready to take on whoever dares to try and take another sister from him. 

“Xander?” Mina asks sleepily. She must have heard the door too.

He doesn’t reply, not wanting to give the intruder a clue to where he is. As soon as he sees a shadow moving in his direction, he jumps out with a yell and prepares to swing his blade. Except from this angle, the dim light from the fireplace illuminates the enemy. But...it’s not an enemy at all. It’s Richard, one of his brothers, an axe clenched tightly in his hands.

“Richard?” Xander says, lowering his sword. “What are you doing here this late?”

His brother takes a shaky breath, then hardens his expression. “Please step aside, Xander. I’m not here for you.”

It takes a moment for those words to sink in. “You can’t be serious.”

“We can’t all be like you. The rest of us are disposable. I want to prove myself so that Father will want to keep me around.” Richard’s voice trembles as he finishes, “I don’t want to die.”

“This isn’t a solution. If you try to go through with this, it’ll backfire. In your attempt to save your life, you’ll wind up losing it.”

“Are you going to kill me then, brother?”

It should be easy to say yes. It should be easy to say no. Instead, Xander is caught somewhere in between, wishing desperately that anyone but one of his siblings is standing across from him. 

“Please don’t do this, Richard,” he says, trying to keep the plea out of his tone but hearing a hint of it all the same.

“I wish I didn’t have to,” Richard replies, “but I do.”

He makes to step past Xander, and automatically, the crown prince moves the same way, blocking him. Xander knows any injuries befalling him will draw more scrutiny than they would for his siblings. Perhaps that will be enough to make Richard reconsider, or at least hesitate enough for Xander to figure out a non-fratricidal route. With a grunt, Richard swings out with his axe. It’s just an attempt to knock Xander off balance, but it’s enough to awaken the instincts he’s been growing with his training. He lifts his sword and deflects the blow.

The resulting _cling_ tears through the otherwise quiet house. Xander knows Mina is partially awake, but what about her mother? Did she hear the voices near the front door and wake, or the noise of their weapons crashing together? 

“Get out of my way,” Richard growls.

“No,” Xander says, forcing him back with a few carefully placed swings. “I’ll talk to Father about you and tell him how strong you are. There’s no need for you to go this far.”

“You and I both know Father doesn’t care about praise if there’s nothing to show for it.”

That’s a fair point, but Xander won’t be dissuaded from talking some sense into his brother. “Think about what you’re doing,” he urges, blocking the axe once more. “Truly _think_ about it. Can you murder your own sister?”

“We’ll find out.”

“No. We won’t.”

Xander resists the urge to spin around and see the new arrival. He knows not to turn away from an enemy, and he recognizes the voice. That doesn’t mean he’s ready when an axe swings out of the darkness and cuts deeply into Richard’s side. With a cry, Richard grasps at the wound. He sways. Coughs. And falls to the floor, dropping his weapon on the way. Minutes later, his breath ceases.

Gazing down at the body of his brother, Xander attempts to sort through his storm of emotions. He's horrified at what he's just witnessed, of course. Adults hunting his siblings is one thing, but his brothers and sisters turning on each other? That discomfort pales in the face of him grappling with his hesitation to strike. He should feel ashamed, a coward, for seeing a threat and refusing to take it out. 

And yet...and yet he’s thankful for the way he had responded, because Xander knows he’ll never take the life of one of his own siblings. He can't. Nausea climbs up his throat at the thought of spilling someone’s blood that’s the same as his -- half the same, at least.

“Thank you for your aid, Prince Xander,” Mina’s mother says.

She doesn’t mention his failure to end the incident quickly, for which he’s grateful. He simply nods.

“I wish it hadn’t been necessary,” he admits.

“Nor I,” she agrees, “but it is the world we live in. You know that, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Yes, he knew. But knowing something and seeing it aren’t the same, and he finds -- unsurprisingly -- that the latter is far worse. Though he doesn’t want to, he presses the memory deeper into his brain. He can’t allow himself to forget this. To forget how fortunate he is, how lucky any surviving siblings are. To forget the lives cut short because of political drama. He’s only one boy, but there must be something more he can do to help, starting with keeping Mina alive for the rest of the night. He’ll go from there.

(In the end, it doesn’t even matter who struck the killing blow. Who protected Mina. Because two weeks later, she’s sprawled out on her bed, dead from a knife to the heart. He’s only one boy, and can’t protect everyone at once.)

* * *

**iv.**

Forcing his thoughts from analyzing the previous battle to focusing on being in the quiet of the infirmary is somewhat of a whiplash, but it’s one Xander is glad to bear for his brother, Luther. As the healer inspects the younger prince’s wound, both wait for an update. Xander knows all too well the antsiness that sets in for a fighter when they’re confined to a bed. Even if it is for their benefit. Eventually he needs to meet with his father and continue reviewing the insights on the battle.

For now, though, he’s simply a brother. Not a crown prince. He appreciates both roles equally, but there’s no denying one holds fewer expectations than the other.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Okay, I guess.” Luther winces as the healer’s magic continues. “I still can’t believe I let that knight sneak up on me.”

“It happens.” While it’s a mistake that should be addressed, now isn’t the time. “Even injured, you were still able to defend yourself properly.”

“Having you nearby didn’t hurt.”

“You wouldn’t have needed me, if it came down to that. You’ve become quite adept with that lance of yours.”

Luther brightens. Or at least, as much as he can brighten, given his condition. “Thank you. I am glad I decided to work with it instead of the axe, like I was thinking.”

“You picked well.”

The healer lightly clears her throat. “Prince Xander, I think it would be best if Prince Luther has some quiet for now. His wound still has an infection, but he should be fine with the proper care.”

“Of course. I’ll move out of your way, then. Rest up, Luther,” he says, resting a hand on his shoulder. “I must speak with Father now, but I’ll return later to check in on you.”

“Okay,” Luther replies drowsily. “Thanks for sitting with me.”

It never fails to amuse Xander that his siblings thank him for doing the simplest actions. As if they should expect any less. He smiles, willing some of his strength to flow into Luther through their point of contact.

“It’s my honor. You are my brother, and I only ever wish you good health.” 

Gods forbid any of them believe that he thinks himself above them. Any would be suited to rise to the throne, just the same as him. Every child of Garon has their own strengths and their own weaknesses. The crown rests on his head because of his birth order and nothing more, though he constantly works to prove himself worthy of it.

Luther’s face flickers with a smile for a moment before his eyes shut. With a wound as serious as his, it’s no wonder his body is calling him to sleep. And would have done so, even without the recommendations of the healer and Xander. 

After lingering just long enough to study the mix of peace and discomfort on his brother’s face, Xander stands and prepares to leave. He pauses at each bed to ensure none of the other soldiers need anything -- as crown prince, he can hardly ignore the injured if they don’t share his blood -- and finds everyone to be in good hands, as he expects.

People move through the hallways less urgently as they had before the battle, but there’s still more bustle than at a peaceful time. He’s not the only one still working through the event. It’s a good thing only the royal family and their inner circle live in the castle. Xander doesn’t want to think about the crowds if the doors ever opened to more. Even the organized chaos before and after a battle can be overwhelming if he doesn’t focus. 

It helps that everyone moves aside when they see him coming; as far as he can remember, people have always treated him with respect, but there’s no denying their respect is greater now that he bears Siegfried and owns some command on the battlefield.

The infirmary and war council room are some distance apart. Despite his long strides, Xander arrives for his meeting with the king later than he had hoped. That isn’t even taking into account his delay with Luther. Over the years, though, Xander has found it’s easier for him to stand up to his father when it comes to his siblings. If the king gives him any grief about his tardiness, he’s prepared to speak.

“This is long after I expected you,” his father says, predictably, once Xander lets himself inside. Pages and maps are strewn about the table.

“My apologies, Father.” Xander closes the door behind him before taking his place. “I sat with Luther for some time while his wound was checked.”

He doesn’t expect his father to express much concern -- if any -- about Luther’s condition. The years have not been kind to any of the royal family as of late. The father with more warmth than not from Xander’s early childhood runs more cold now. 

The king merely grunts. The explanation likely isn’t a surprise, as Xander’s dedication to his siblings is rivaled only by his dedication to Nohr as a whole. 

“Make your report now, then,” his father orders.

So Xander does, detailing his observations from the battlefield. Their soldiers’ victories and mistakes, and those of their opponents. Not a clean fight by any means, but still a win. The king looks over his papers periodically, comparing Xander’s words to what he’s already heard. Xander isn’t sure if he’s sharing anything new factually, but his insights are his own.

“Is there anything else?” the king asks.

Xander shakes his head. “No, but if you have any specific questions, I will answer them to the best of my ability.”

“That won’t be necessary. Now for the future…”

He and his father have just begun discussing the plan going forward when a soldier walks in.

“Yes?” the king asks.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, my liege, but I come with sad news.”

“Get on with it.”

The soldier nods. “Your son Luther has died.”

“What?” Xander says sharply. “You must be mistaken. I talked with him not an hour ago.”

“The healers believe his wound’s infection was worse than originally expected. I’m told there was nothing we could do for him.”

A weight settles in his stomach and his head goes light. Xander turns his back to his father, closing his eyes and allowing himself a moment to grieve. It’s not as if he has much of a choice in the matter, his feelings bubbling intensely as they are. He will take this minute of weakness, and then he’ll grow strong once more. Properly mourning yet another lost sibling can come later.

“Is that all?” the king says.

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Then go.”

His eyes still shut, Xander only knows the soldier following the orders through the sound of his boots on the floor, followed by the door opening and closing. As soon as the room is quiet once more, he steels himself and faces his father once more. Perhaps if he returns the conversation to its place from before, the king won’t have a chance to comment. But before Xander can speak, his father does.

“He died because he was weak,” his father says flatly. “You understand that, don’t you?”

Xander frowns. “But Father, it’s not as if he chose to have his wound become infected.”

Yes, he’s grown more comfortable in speaking his thoughts around his father, but there are still times when the man snaps at him that make him want to shrink back into himself.

“Any worthy child of mine wouldn’t fall to something so common.”

Like that.

The way the king stares at him feels like a warning. It’s not as if Xander harbors dreams of having an infected wound, but he makes a mental note to make all the more sure he’s never in the same situation as his brother. Though he won’t argue with his father any further, he’s still convinced it isn’t Luther’s fault. If the king is in the mood for blaming people, then some could be set on the healers. 

Of course, Xander isn’t about to say so, in case his father decides to punish them. And he doesn’t believe anyone is truly to _blame_. It’s a tragedy. It’s a fact of life. People die because of battles. Some drop on the field itself, while others succumb later. He’s sure Luther won’t be the last of his siblings to die during an external conflict, as much as it hurts to think so.

“I understand, Father,” he says finally. 

He doesn’t, and it’s possible the king will see right through him, but this is not a conversation Xander wants to have. Not when he’s desperately wishing for some way to wind back time and spend his time with Luther knowing it’s their last minutes together, if there’s no chance of saving him. Deep down, Xander is aware it isn’t his fault. And yet...and yet he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed another sibling. Or help but wonder if a day will come when he’ll have no more to let down, because they’ll all be gone.

* * *

**v.**

With the conflicts between his father’s concubines over, Xander allows himself a breath of relief. No longer does he have to worry about losing siblings in such violent manners. There are still battles to fight -- with Hoshido especially -- but he doesn’t need to keep worrying that someone he walks past in the castle’s hallways is plotting to kill one of his siblings.

Not that there are many left to kill.

Because of that and all the ghosts in his heart, he aches to protect the remaining ones all the more. It doesn’t help that their father has become increasingly distant and frequently cruel. Xander finds himself acting more like a father himself to his youngest siblings, like Elise. Only Camilla is close to him in age. As much as he appreciates her help in caring for their family, he wishes for a more even spread of ages. Or at the very least a father doing his job, as he once did, but the odds of that grow longer each day.

Still, there are benefits to playing a fatherly role. He serves as more of a teacher, an example, helping his youngest siblings learn how to live in a general sense. And he’s the one that hears his sister Ida declare that she doesn’t want to be a princess, rather than the king. During their time together, Xander has learned she doesn’t enjoy the responsibilities or expectations, but this is the first time she’s been so blatant about it.

“I know it doesn’t seem like much fun now, but there is some joy in it,” he says. “It’s an important role too.”

“I don’t care,” Ida says. “I want to see the world!”

“You can see it, little sister.”

She pouts. “I don’t mean seeing it in battle, Xander. I want to explore it wherever I want, and whenever I want.”

“Where’s this coming from?” he asks. He can’t talk some sense into her unless he understands her motivations.

It doesn’t help that all she does is shrug. 

“I’ll try to help you find aspects to appreciate,” he promises. “There’s plenty we can do as royals that you couldn’t do if you were out running around on your own.”

Though her mouth slants in doubt, she doesn’t argue. He takes that as a good sign, though hopes she won’t complain to someone less understanding.

Perhaps he should wish a little more broadly, because he doesn’t anticipate just how dedicated his sister is to living life outside the castle. The next morning, the place is in an uproar because she’s gone missing. Some of the initial panic calms when a butler finds a note from her, saying she’s gone off to live a different life. It’s a comfort to know she had left willingly -- except for the fact there’s no way of knowing where she’s gone or what’s happened to her since.

Xander is the first to volunteer to lead a search party. To his irritation, his father denies his request. The given reason is security concerns. Though Xander can’t imagine why those would be relevant now and not, say, during a battle, he can’t think of any other explanation for the king to turn him down. So instead of combing the land for his sister, he’s reduced to training intensely, as he does when his mind is in disarray. Those who enter the training room turn right back around once they catch sight of his more-furrowed-than-usual brow.

While Ida’s lack of experience hiding from searchers can be dangerous if she’s found by bandits or the like, it turns out to be a blessing. The patrols aren’t out for more than a few hours before one returns with her in tow. As soon as he hears the news, Xander returns the training sword to its place and heads to the throne room, where she’s been taken.

“Ida,” he says. “I’m relieved to see you well.” He wants to ask her reasons for running off, but encouraging her to talk about her disinterest in being a princess in front of the king is just asking for trouble. “We’ll talk later.”

She avoids his gaze, cheeks pink. “Yes, big brother.”

“Do you know what she was found doing?” their father asks.

Xander looks away from Ida, waiting for the answer. Whatever she’s been taken from must be serious, for their father to make a point of bringing it up.

“Not only did she take it upon herself to abandon her position, but she decided to aid the enemy.” The king pauses, allowing his words to sink in, then elaborates. “A couple of Hoshidans had made their way into our territory and became hurt and ill along the way. When the patrol found her, she was giving them food and drink and tending to their injuries.”

“I didn’t know they were Hoshidans, Father --” Ida protests.

“Silence, child.”

“I’m sure she just saw two people in need of help,” Xander says. “We all know the strength of her heart.”

“Be that as it may, a princess of Nohr should be able to tell the difference between friend and foe. If the patrol hadn’t found her, for all we know she could’ve given them the secrets to the castle.”

“Father --” Ida tries again.

“Regardless, there is no denying that you turned your back on your duty. That cannot go without punishment.”

Ida’s head droops. “I understand, Father.”

At least she has the sense to not fight the king on that count. The idea of her spilling Nohrian secrets to strangers is ridiculous, but their father is right: she deserves punishment on at least one count. Silence fills the room as the man contemplates the sentence.

“An example must be made,” the king says finally. “Execute her.”

Xander blinks. He can’t have heard that right. “What?”

His sister’s mouth is open, but no sound comes out. What sort of reply can be made to that statement, providing he’s not mistaken?

“Ida will be executed to show that no one will be allowed to desert and aid the enemy without punishment.”

“But Father, she’s your daughter. My sister.”

“No exceptions.”

He should’ve known better than to think that plea would work. Xander scrambles for another argument, seeing in the eyes of the others in the room that they won’t speak up. Ida’s life is in his hands now, and he will not fumble it.

“There was no way for her to have known who she was helping, as little as she knows about the conflict. That oversight is my fault, and I will accept whatever punishment you see fit, but there’s no reason to _execute_ her. You could confine her to the castle or --”

“Do you dare to tell your king what to do?” their father growls.

“I…” Xander’s hesitation pains him, the words he wants to say scratching up his throat against the force of his obedience. He compromises. “I am simply making a suggestion that won’t risk raising alarm with our people.”

“I did not ask you for any suggestions. I’ve given my order, and I expect it to be carried out. Do you want this task to fall to you?”

Gods, just the thought… “No.”

“Then you will say nothing more on the matter.”

Xander bites the inside of his cheek.

“Do you understand?”

“Yes, Father,” he forces out.

All he can do is watch as the king orders a soldier to lock her in her room while the preparations are made. At least it doesn’t sound as if he’s dragging out the moment. Even that’s not a bright side, because Xander is acutely aware it means his remaining time with Ida is ticking away. 

Maybe it makes him a coward, but there’s something like relief when their father bars him from visiting her. Xander doesn’t know how he can sit with her and act like everything is okay when both know full well what is coming. The thought of their last moments together coming as he watches her execution, though…

Damn their father for robbing him of the chance to make his own decision.

And for levelling the sentence itself.

And Ida for being so reckless.

And himself for not finding a way to stop her. Or save her.

It’s not a public spectacle -- even the king has limits -- but everyone who lives in the castle is there, along with a few high-ranking soldiers and members of the community. Regardless, the story will spread. Everyone will hear about the king sentencing his own daughter to death for running away from the castle and lending aid to an enemy, albeit unknowingly. Xander barely notices any of them, too busy staring at his sister. Perhaps if he focuses intensely enough, he’ll wake up from this nightmare, or the reality will right itself.

Has Ida always been so small? Xander can’t remember. Surely she has, especially when around his height, but he can’t picture a time where she looks as tiny and young as she does now, kneeling in front of the soldier chosen to be the executioner. His hand twitches, reaching for Siegfried at the sight of a sibling in danger. He reminds himself of the man who had ordered this danger and doesn’t touch his sword.

She glances around the people gathered, showing no sign of the fear and anger she surely must be feeling. Her eyes lock with his. What does she feel towards him? Betrayal? Hate? Confusion? Yet he sees no indication of those either. Just the soft edge of her regular gaze.

His heart is torn, half begging him to look away, the other half insisting that this is the least he can do for her, after failing to help their father see reason. The latter wins in the end. Its victory does nothing to stop the tears shed by the former, matching the wetness on his cheek he tries to hide. There is no consolation, he finds, in knowing that his face is the last one Ida ever sees.

 _I’m sorry_ , he thinks, unable to muster the energy to mouth the words. All he can hope is his face sends his sister off with a look at the love and care their father isn’t interested in giving. The love and care that should have saved her life.

* * *

**vi.**

The invasion of Hoshido is set to begin, and Xander can’t shake the feeling that something is missing. He knows full well he’s itching to have Corrin at his side for the battle, to put their hours of training together into practice, but it’s an odd sensation all the same. He faces off with his Hoshidan counterpart, seeing a quick path to victory. Just before they can turn their blades on each other, more Hoshidans come rushing up to join the attack.

Wait. One of the new figures has long, white hair. No Hoshidans have hair like that, so could it be…?

“Corrin, you’re alive!” He can’t help but state the obvious. “They haven’t harmed you, have they?”

“Xander!” she replies, sounding equal parts pleased and stressed. “I’m fine.”

At first, all he feels is relief, seeing her alive and well and hearing her confirmation. But then the implications of her answer hit him. She’s been with the Hoshidans and looks none the worse for it; surely they’ve told her of the true blood running through her veins. 

“But...why are you invading Hoshido?”

The concern in her voice is all he needs to know she’s found out.

“Father says it’s time to show our true strength,” he explains. “Join us, and we’ll end this quickly!” Join him and his siblings and make their family whole again. “If we conquer Hoshido here and now, we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

“Xander…” Corrin pales. “I...I need a minute.”

For her to need a minute...she must have grown close to her birth siblings during her time away. She’s always had a kind streak, but surely even she can see that this is the best way to prevent any further conflict. Even this conflict is spiralling with each minute they wait. It turns from a simple battle between countries to a battle for a sibling each country feels entitled to. Xander hears his siblings arrive and gleefully recognize their sister. The Hoshidan royal siblings counter with their own claims.

The fight cannot begin until everyone knows where Corrin stands. It only takes a moment for Xander to realize he’s not sure he wants to hear the answer. He nearly lost her once before, back when Leo helped her leave the Northern Fortress, and here she is again, after all his new, aching fears of never seeing her again. What if for all of the joy at seeing her again, she elects to support Hoshido? Sure enough, the royal siblings of the country reach out to her, call her their sister, urge her to return to their side. In his peripheral vision, Xander sees his siblings rush forward, presumably to make the same plea.

“She’s my sister!” Elise declares.

Xander hears the defensiveness in her voice, a sign his youngest sister is confident that Corrin’s choice is an easy one. But he knows better. He knows the power that blood ties can hold. All he needs to do is look at how he obeys every order his father gives him, even the ones that he knows will eat at him every night. As such, he must make his own statement.

“We’re your family,” he says simply, reaching out like they’re in the simpler days of him pulling her to her feet during training.

They may not be family by blood, but Corrin has spent more time in Nohr than her birth country. Even with all those years in the Northern Fortress, she’s seen him and Leo and Camilla and Elise more than the time she’s spent with the Hoshidan royal family. She must understand that, right? Xander _needs_ her to understand it. The days of him losing siblings are supposed to be over.

Losing them to violence is one thing. Losing them because they wish to leave...the thought of Corrin turning her back on them, on _him_ , digs in his gut like a blade. For all of his love of his other sisters and brother, he doesn’t know if he’ll come out whole from a betrayal like that. And how would Elise take it? She’s never known the feeling of watching siblings fall around her, powerless to help.

If Corrin does express the desire to leave, Xander won’t accept it. Some part of him knows that he has to respect her decision one way or the other, but he shoves it down. The only reason she’ll stay with those she has arrived with is if they’ve filled her head with lies. Those will be easy enough to untangle as long as they bring her back to her true home. The Hoshidans are unlikely to let her leave with him one way or the other. That, at least, he can respect. Their dedication to their family, even if he can argue all day about who her _real_ family is.

Whether Corrin picks Nohr or -- gods forbid -- Hoshido, there will be a fight. He tightens his grip on Siegfried, the familiar warm glow of the blade helping keep his emotions steady. There are no battles he intends to lose, but this one especially so. 

Xander will not lose another sibling.

“I know what I must do,” Corrin says, almost to herself.

The moment of truth. He desperately replays her words in his head, studies her posture, looking for some clue as to what her next words will be so he can brace himself.

“Ryoma!”

 _Gods_ , Xander thinks. _Is she truly_ \--

Corrin adjusts her stance to one of battle. “Withdraw your troops.”

“You don’t mean that, Corrin,” Ryoma says, sounding as stunned as Xander knows he would be at hearing those words. “You cannot possibly!”

“I’m sorry, Ryoma, but I will not fight for Hoshido.”

Long days of practicing the proper princely demeanor mean Xander doesn’t release an audible sigh of relief, though he feels it. He doesn’t have to look at the others to know they feel the same. They’re all still together. Now just to ensure they stay that way.

He only watches, listens, as Hoshido’s crown prince lays out his reasoning. Not all of it is without merit, and Corrin admits as much, but she says the words that truly matter.

“I simply will not abandon the only family I have ever known.”

“You did the right thing, Corrin,” Xander assures, hardly able to imagine the storm going on in his sister’s thoughts even with her decision complete. “As you now know, you do not share the same bloodline as the rest of us.” And with the way most of that bloodline has gone, in some ways it’s for the better. “But it matters not. I have regarded you as family since I first laid eyes on you.”

Just speaking of their first meeting sends his mind back to those moments. His father returning from some meeting with the Hoshidan king with a child in tow. No explanation as to why the child -- Corrin, Xander finds out later, when he gently coaxes her into speaking -- is with him. Only saying she is a new sister, and Xander gratefully accepts her without hesitation. No one can fill the holes left in his heart with the siblings he’s lost, but he’s not about to turn down a new one.

And this time, she’s the one to not turn him down.

“I cannot express what it means to me that you’ve chosen to return to us,” he continues, not bothering to hide that fact in his voice. “Father will be pleased as well.”

“Are you certain of that, Prince Xander?” Ryoma asks, tone implying he knows something that Xander does not. A tone the crown prince of Nohr has always despised. “Surely you must know of King Garon’s attempt to murder Corrin.”

Xander’s brows furrow. “Explain yourself. Swiftly.”

“There was an attack in our capital’s square. The explosion came from Corrin’s sword. If my mother hadn’t sacrificed herself, she would be dead now. If King Garon truly cares, why did he risk Corrin’s life just to hurt Hoshido?”

The story’s veracity notwithstanding, Xander won’t go so far as to say that his father truly cares about any of his children. Perhaps at some time, but not now. Not in the way that he knows a father should care. Out of affection, not greed for potential. The way his mother once cared. All the same, the claim...

He looks to his sister, because he’s not about to take a Hoshidan’s word as truth, let alone for something like this. “Is this true, Corrin?” 

“...It is,” Corrin admits, “but I still need to hear Father’s side of the story. That’s why I must return home right away. I must know the truth of this tragedy.”

Hopefully it isn’t the only reason. Xander smothers that fear, reminding himself of the words she’s spoken. How he and the others are her family. Besides, she can’t have turned away from her birth brother simply to ask the king a question. That same birth brother that now declares his intention to battle, turning his blade on his sister, calling for the rest to do the same. Xander pushes his horse forward, deflecting a second attack from Ryoma.

The idea of his father deliberately placing Corrin in danger is troubling, but it's a thought to puzzle over later. After they hear the king’s side of the story. After they defeat the Hoshidans’ attempts to prevent Corrin from returning home. It won’t be an easy battle, with both sides equally as motivated, but Xander knows they won’t lose. _He_ won’t lose. Because she chose her Nohrian family, and that cannot be allowed to go to waste.

He could have lost another sibling, but he didn’t. And in these moments, that is all that matters.


End file.
